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His eyes were blue.
The men in front of him turned to look pointedly at him, and he realized he must have said the thought out loud. They were meant to be discussing...something, but Spock’s mind was elsewhere. "His eyes were blue," a repeated thought bubbled to the forefront of his mind, a thought of his bondmate, his husband, his T'hy'la, an opposition to his counterpart, who stood here and now with brown eyes.
I must be getting old. Another passing thought, one often heard in Leonard's voice.
"Are you alright, Ambassador?"
"I am well. I simply must be getting old," he responded.
"Yeah, you said that. You also said his eyes were blue? Whose eyes?" Three concerned faces were focused on him.
He tilted his head, "Did I? Strange." Focusing, he heard, "I MUST be getting old," again, in Leonard's voice, knowing it WAS him this time. Even across this distance, these many years apart, he could occasionally feel his bondmate. It was rare, but today seemed to be one of those treasured days. "My t'hy'la," he whispered, eyes glossing over and a smile playing on his lips.
"There's definitely something wrong with him," a voice said.
"Spock, what's a t'hy'la?"
"Someone who is exceptionally close to him...perhaps a wife?"
He paid no mind to the hands grabbing his arms as he sat and closed his eyes. He tuned fully in to the weak frequency, giving himself over to every word McCoy could get through. "You damn fool. I don't know where the hell you are. Today's Conner's tenth birthday, you know that? What'd I'm going to tell him when he asks about Grandpa Spock? Again? Where the hell'd you run off to, anyway? How am I suppose to find you when our signal is out? Wait..." Spock held his breath and McCoy held his, "I feel you. Spock. Are you there? Knock three times...Spock. I don't care where you are, I don't care what I have to do. I'm going to find you, somehow. Somewhere. I'm finding you tomorrow. Everyone sends their love. I love you. I love..." the signal faded out, and Spock blinked back to his current reality.
To a different Spock, Kirk, and McCoy staring at him from where he sat on the floor, waiting for an explanation.
Leonard had once said the beauty of getting older is that you get to stop explaining yourself to everyone.
So he simply stood and straightened out his clothes with the palm of his hand, the way Leonard would do, and said, "Apparently, my bondmate will be here tomorrow. How, I am unsure, though I am certain he will find a way."
"He? You're homosexual?"
"It would be ludicrous to attempt to define the bounds of my sexuality," he answered the query with an air of simplicity. He looked at the sky, and it was clear and blue.
"I think you just called you a slut."
He hummed, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. The only thing he could find worth his focus is the lingering emotions from his husband; the conviction, the strength, the joy, the love. He loved him. After all these years, he had no space left to doubt Leonard. "I do not know how he will do it without Jim...But he will certainly find a way. Yes, my Adun will be here tomorrow..."
"Who is your...Adun, Ambassador?" The younger Spock asked.
"Patience...you will meet him tomorrow." His fingertips twitched in anticipation, already eager to reach out and touch him.
Late morning the next day, his hands were wrapped around a cup of tea. He kept the electric kettle on, and the evening before, he had sourced a blend that would be close enough to his husband's favorite flavoring. He stood by the window, looking over at the horizon. The sky was blue again today. Leonard would be here today, he told himself. Behind him, the three counterparts sat on his couch. They had refused to leave him alone, so he allowed them to stay. He had a guest room, and the couch. He did not care how they slept, as they were free to return to their ship. He only waited for Leonard. He knew he was coming.
"Are you sure he's okay?"
"His vitals are within the expected range. There’s nothing abnormal about his scans..."
"May I suggest, he could be suffering from a broken bond?"
"A broken- what?"
Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes; a talent McCoy had taught him. Both the act, and the self control. With a turn, he addressed the men, "I assure you, I am not suffering from a broken bond. My Adun is alive and well. And he will be here, today." He turned back to the window, looking out at the landscape. Specifically, that sky. It was like the blue was taunting him.
He felt a tug at the bond. A familiar pull- Leonard was trying to tell him something, and it was coming through. He felt a jolt of excitement- it had been a year since he had last felt the intentional connection, their split worlds making such a task impossible- so he had thought.
"I've got it figured out, darling. I'm on my way. I know Vulcan radio hasn't worked in a while, but, just in case... Oh, of all your hair brained, half cocked ideas, I don't know how you came up with this one..."
Spock clung to the signal and mustered his only singular thought, "My Adun, my Ashayam, my t'hy'la, my love, I am ready for you."
Time continued to pass. Occasionally, the younger Jim Kirk would attempt to open a conversation with him, but he could not part his focus from the sky. He'd hear the younger Doctor McCoy scanning him, trying to be discreet, but he knew his vitals were quite healthy for a Vulcan his age. The young Spock only sat contemplatively.
Noon arrived, and the air evaporated from his very lungs as his brain was bombarded with the complete return of every one of his husband's thoughts and feelings. He fell against the window, gasping and panting for breath. "Spock! I feel you! I'm coming, darlin’, I'm here!" He was unable to control his reaction, bursting into a strong laugh, allowing Leonard's glee to course through his veins again.
He shook the arms grasping him off, wanting to feel only his husband. "He is here," he stated breathlessly, "My Adun, he only needs to find me. Co-ordinates....co-ordinates!" Spock closed his eyes, still overwhelmed with every feeling of his love.
"Leonard... come to this location, I await you," he focused his thoughts on sending him the precise location of New Vulcan, and then the coordinates of his house.
He felt the excitement rush through him, unsure if it was his own anticipation or Leonard's. But he communication vaguely back his location with pictures; he often thought in pictures. From what Spock could tell, he had arrived nearby, closer than he would've expected. Luck. Jim had one said, "Mister Spock, you almost make me believe in luck." But Leonard, he had been the one that got Spock to believe in the sentiment first. His very presence insisted on it, and this was evidence. There was once a time that Spock would have insisted that every action and reaction was predictable, and no unverifiable belief such as luck could alter the logical conclusion for every action's reaction. But as the HMS Bounty became visible in the distance, he knew nothing but luck and a miracle could have made this possible.
"What the hell is....?"
"Ashayam...." Spock's face broke into an open grin, turning from the window and rushing to the exit. He had not moved so fast in many years, and it made his knees ache. He ran in spite of it, pushing through the physical and kicking sand as he trampled across the dunes. Far, far ahead, the old bird-of-prey landed, and on his heels, the three younger men followed, shouting at him in words he could not hear.
A figure stepped out of the vessel and began to move towards them in equal enthusiasm, though not as quickly. "Spock!" They heard an old, gruff voice holler out. Spock ran faster, his hips beginning to beg him to stop as he faltered.
"Leonard!" He called back, approaching quickly. Before he could think his next move through, he embraced him with a force that nearly toppled them both to the ground. He lifted Leonard in a bridal hold and spun him once, laughing freely with the man in his arms.
"You old fool! Are you out of your Vulcan mind? You're going to hurt yourself, put me down!" He laughed, reaching one hand into Spock's hair and running another down his face, touching each meld point and stroking the tip of his ears.
"As you wish, my Ashayam," Spock squeezed him closer and sat there on the sand, continuing to hold Leonard in his lap, pulling his head against his chest. He ran his own hands through the man's thinning white hair, tracing his round ears and slowly stroking his arms.
"Not what I meant, and you know it," he chuckled as he nuzzled into the grip, burying his face into Spock's neck. They embraced silently, breathing in each other's familiar scents and catching their breath. "Your damn self sacrificing tenancies are finally catching up to you...where the hell are we, anyway?"
"You are on New Vulcan," the younger Spock spoke up.
Leonard finally lifted his head, noticing that they were not alone. Gazing at the too-familiar features and expression, he asked Spock, "This doesn't happen to be your way of telling me you have a kid I didn't know about, is it?"
Spock nuzzled his face into his hair, placing gentle kisses on the crown of his head. "It is not. But perhaps this would be better discussed inside my house," he stated as he pulled them to stand.
"Oh, we get separated for only a few years and you think it's fine and dandy for you to go and get a house without me," he teased.
"Our house. Of course, I misspoke," he kissed the back of Leonard's hand tenderly. "You will let me know if the walk is too taxing, Adun."
"No need to worry about me. Got my old knees replaced while you were gone," Leonard smiled up at him, "I'm almost as much computer as you."
"All but in the ways that matter, I am certain," he retorted back. He felt warm, comfort, home flowing through their bond, as their banter picked up where they always left it.
He did end up carrying Leonard, though only through the threshold, as their tradition for moving into new places had always been. It took more effort, now that his adrenaline was no longer running, but he was pleased to do it all the same.
All but Spock sat in the living room. Leonard sat in a matching chair, and the three younger men placed shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch. Spock busied himself with preparing beverages for each of his guests while McCoy looked at each of them, tilting his head somewhat, tuning in to Spock's subtle hum of anxieties, as though it'd make more sense from another direction. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking at, but it was all...too familiar. And unfamiliar.
"Thank ya, darlin'," he drawled as he smiled up at Spock, his ever vibrant blue eyes twinkling as he was handed his cup of tea. His accent had thickened with age, and he felt Spock's fondness through the bond over it. Taking a seat in the other matching chair, and looking over at the three, Spock took a deep breath.
"Beloved. I regret I had not been able to inform you, but you will not be able to return back to our home from here."
McCoy snorted, "I guessed as much, else you'da come home already. Don'tcha worry. I gave us a...good ending. Back home."
Spock blinked, "A good..."
"You didn't think I'd let everyone think the both of us were MIA forever, didja? No," He raised his fingers for a Vulcan kiss, which Spock met automatically. "We're dead. Saavik finds our bodies next week, tells everyone I finally found ya."
"Explain, 'our bodies'."
He grinned wide, "I called in an old favor. Phylos still has your DNA, of course. They made some...faulty clones. Never conscious, never living. But genetically the very same as us. Even if they choose to pursue an autopsy, it'll seem we've simply died in bed, together, old age. As though we just waited until we were reunited. You can never say I'm not a romantic."
"I would not dare. Saavik, is she aware..."
"That it's a ploy? No, nobody knows," he sighed, "I only know she'll find us because she's due to stop by. I sent a note, saying I believe I know where you are, and that I was going to you. She’ll know I stole the Bounty from the museum, and, well. She's a clever girl, but she's no Jim Kirk. She'll see the bodies and she'll accept it as fact."
The young James Kirk then cleared his throat, prompting an eyeroll from McCoy. "Pardon me, young man, but I have not seen my soulmate here in years. Are you aware of how old I am? I'm one hundred and sixty five, I could croak any minute. Forgive me, if I don't care to do cartwheels for you and whatever you're staring me down for."
"Adun..." Spock chastised, "It is my fault. They know not who you are. Only yesterday, when I felt your pull, did it become relevant for them to know I am bonded."
"What?! Well, why the hell not? What are you hiding me for?"
They had never seen the older Vulcan 'twitchy,' but that was the best way to describe his movements. "I did not intentionally hide you. This place you have travelled into is not quite the same as where we come from. This is an alternate..."
"Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," McCoy cut him off. "Again?! You're telling me them there...." He gestured wildly at the three on the couch, who suddenly found it quite possible to not be irritated, "That's why they're familiar?"
Spock pursed his lips and nodded, "Yes. This is Jim Kirk, Spock, and...Leonard McCoy."
"Like hell it is," he snorted and leaned forward, "Look at me, boy. Let me see your face." The younger doctor hesitated, but did as he was told. McCoy laughed and leant back in his seat, hitching a leg over the arm. "They got the eyes wrong on that one. And that one," he gestured to Jim.
"You knew my counterpart?" The younger McCoy questioned.
The older McCoy looked to Spock with a raised brow, before gesturing down his body. "You're lookin' at him."
"That's not possible," he argued. "I'm...I'm not gay, I have an ex-wife."
McCoy laughed, "Well, if that's your only objection. You know, I'm not gay either. I had an ex-wife. Two of them, for that matter. And a daughter."
"You...referred to him as your soulmate. What did you mean by that?" Jim questioned.
"Well, you could say he's been inside me in more ways than one...Ow!" Spock pinched his arm for the joke. "Alright, fine. I carried his Katra, his soul, when he died for a while."
"You, carried his Katra?" The younger Spock asked disbelievingly.
"He successfully completed the fal-tor-pan," the older one responded. "Our souls have been entwined since."
"I loved you before that, you know?" The older McCoy leaned over and whispered, not quietly. "Ever since..."
"2266, Stardate 4040.7," he acknowledged with a gentle smile, "You have not been shy in saying as much."
The younger McCoy was up and pacing, and they had skillfully ignored him up to this point. He finally said, "So, what does that mean, then? For me and this Spock here?"
"Why would it mean anything for you?" The older one frowned, "One of the alternate universes we accidentally ended up in, he had a goatee and was evil. Kudos if that's what you want, ah, some things are universe specific. The only consistency we've found so far is that the three of us, Jim, Spock, myself, are always friends."
“Leonard,” Spock interrupted, “This is not quite a different universe, rather, a parallel timeline. An alternate reality. Their natural order has already been disrupted by Nero and I’s arrival. They are to know as little about our timeline as possible.” McCoy eyed Spock up and down, sensing that there was more information that Spock was omitting.
“Show me,” he demanded, leaning over the armrest of his chair. Spock initiated a meld, and after a minute or so, they slowly separated, Spock gently caressing the man’s cheek as his hand dropped.
McCoy exhaled, then looked over at the three, who still watched uncomfortably. “Your dad needs surgery,” he said immediately to the younger Spock, ignoring his husband’s prior warning. “The sooner the better. You need to start banking your blood and plasma now, filtering out the human elements. The procedure will be cryogenic open-heart, and I’ll send you,” he pointed to McCoy, “My notes. It’s a tricky surgery, but far from impossible. He has a faulty heart valve that must be fixed. If I had to guess looking at you, you’ve got about a year before he starts hiding his heart attacks.”
“Ashayam, you are meant to allow their destinies to follow their natural flow…”
“To hell with that!” He retorted as he stood, “Since when have we cared about disrupting the flow of time? I helped you steal two whales!”
Kirk looked puzzled, “You stole…”
“Whales?” The younger McCoy said.
The older waved his hand dismissively, “You’ll figure that one out on your own. But you,” he pointed at his younger self, “I’m going to send you the formula for the cure to Xenopolycythemia. It hurts like a sumbitch, but you won’t die. Keep an eye on your red blood cells.”
“So much for not telling us anything about our future, huh?” The younger mumbled. The older Spock raised a brow, in almost a shrugging gesture. He knew his husband, always a doctor first. He expected nothing less.
“Listen, boy, and you listen good, some things ain’t worth keepin’ secret. What the hell’s good keeping your timeline intact if you don’t survive it?” McCoy said in all sincerity. “And you,” he pointed at Jim, their harsh blue eyes meeting, “Don’t be stupid. Think twice before you run off into danger. Do not destroy the one named Kirk. If this timeline is anything akin to our own, your friends here…they need you.”
After a beat, the younger Spock spoke. “Thank you. My father is…all I have left.”
“I saw,” McCoy said as he tapped his head. “Now, what are you all doing here? Shouldn’t you be on the Enterprise?”
Jim cleared his throat, “Well, we were scheduled to leave yesterday. We’re here to escort Ambassador Spock to his next conference, but we were concerned. Decided to postpone our departure until we knew he…”
“Hadn’t lost his marbles,” the younger McCoy finished.
McCoy laughed boisterously, leaning over and slapping the older Spock’s knee. “You’ve got some good kids here! ‘Preciate you takin’ care of my old man, kids.”
“Leonard, you know you are older than I,” he replied affectionately.
“You’re still an old man,” McCoy chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re workin’, darlin’. You ever heard of retirement?”
Spock raised a brow at his husband, “Unless you retired in the time we have been apart, I believe the phrase is, ‘Pot, meet kettle’, Surgeon General.”
“I’m retired as of right now,” He declared, “So, where are we going?”
Jim hesitated, “Um, Federation Headquarters, but are you certain…”
“I won’t be separated from my husband again, young man,” McCoy plainly stated. “It’d be nice to have a day or two to unpack, settle in, but Starfleet waits for no one. Can we just have an hour? Alone?”
“We shall comm when we’re prepared to be beamed aboard,” Spock added, reaching over to grab his husband’s hand.
The three could tell it wasn’t truly a request, and Jim nodded. He stood, and the other two followed suit. “Of course. We’ll, uh, be waiting. Whenever you’re ready.”
They walked the three to the door, and the minute they were out of the house, Spock embraced him, holding him close to his chest. “I have missed you. Every day, I have missed you.” He nuzzled down into his husband’s wirey white hair, speaking in gentle Vulcan, “Du nam-tor wuh ashaya t' t'nash-veh ha'kiv. Du heh nash-veh teretuhr ek'wak. Worla krus s' nash-veh va'ashiv.”*
Even so removed from the house they built, the family they left behind, and the world that they knew, McCoy felt at home for the first time in years as he breathed in the Spock’s familiar scent, his soft robe flush against his cheek. He choked at the loving words, a tear finally escaping his eyes. “Not going anywhere. Never again. I love you, you old fool.”
Between peppered kisses and gentle caresses, pausing only to soak in those crystal blue eyes, finally confident that his lonesome days were over once more, Spock murmured over and over:
“T'nash-veh ashaya, T'nash-veh k'diwa.”**